


Take My Picture

by OrdinaryJade



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographer, Everybody Lives, F/M, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 16:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14674775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrdinaryJade/pseuds/OrdinaryJade
Summary: Peter likes to take pictures of you.





	Take My Picture

He asked you as a favor.

Central Park was beautiful during the golden hours, but in his professional opinion, Peter thought you were much more beautiful. The golden hours, just after sunrise or sunset, were Peters favorite times to take photos of you. It lit up the subtle shades of gold in your eyes.

You were strolling around the edge of a pond looking for a good place to take the first few pictures. Earlier that day Peter had asked you to model for him for a job he had picked up. You agreed, but on the condition that he would buy you a sandwich from Delmar’s. That was always the condition. He couldn’t pay you and you both knew it. But he was your best friend so it wasn’t like you could just leave him hanging.

“Here! It’s perfect,” he said, pointing to a small patch of flowers. He started to dig out all his equipment from his bag and gestured for you to sit.

“What do you want me to do here?” you asked. You were by no means a model and his vague gestures weren’t making this any easier. You watched as he fiddled with the lens for a second. You felt awkward.

He smiled reassuringly at you. His curly brown hair was a little wild and his shoes were scuffed and muddy. He had an excited glint in his eye. “Just… like sit on the ground and I’ll adjust you or something.”

You let out a short bark of a laugh as you plopped down on the ground. Peter spent at least 7 minutes adjusting you in small ways. When he was finally satisfied, he started the first round of pictures. Sometimes he would crouch, or stand, or ask you to move a little to the left or right.

“Are you almost done?” you asked after hearing the camera click for what felt like the millionth time. You had a huge grin on your face despite being tired. Watching him flutter around excitedly had helped you to relax.

“Almost, hold your horses,” he said. Suddenly he had an idea. If he could get you to agree to the shot it would be exactly what he needed… “Hey (Y/N)?”

“Oh no. Peter, I know that look, I swear if you ask me to jump out of another tree I’ll walk home right now.”

“No trees! Just some water,” he said. He smiled sheepishly at you giving his best puppy eyes.

“You are not about to ask me to get in that pond. You aren’t,” you said. You knew what he wanted. An aerial shot of you floating around in a dirty New York pond. You didn’t have any extra clothes and it was a long walk home.

“Please?” he asked. It was such a bad idea. A terrible one. Who knew what was in that water. You said yes anyway.

You couldn’t resist his artistic urges. That’s also how he convinced you to jump out of the tree. He had gotten the shot, but you twisted your ankle on the landing and he felt guilty for weeks.

You toed off your shoes, reminding him that if you got sick it was his fault. Your first steps into the water were cool and squishy in the mud. The deeper you got, the more your clothes started to float and pool and cling in odd ways. It sent chills up your spine. You were floating all the way on your back by the time Peter shimmied up into a nearby tree to take the shot.

He took multiple shots loving the way the sun reflected in the water and in your eyes. It was like a dream. When you climbed out of the water you were shivering and a little annoyed. He picked a few pieces of grass out of your hair. You leaned into his hand, wishing he would heat up your cheeks with his warm hands. He paused and stared at you for a long second before quickly turning away. You had a light tinge of pink in your cheeks. You were going to pretend it was the cold.

You coughed loudly. “Let’s go home, please. I’m freezing,” you said. The sun was setting more rapidly now, Peter having used the last few minutes of the golden hour to take those shots. It was dim and cold and you wanted fresh clothes and a sandwich.

“No problem, my place is closer you can borrow some of my clothes for a while,” he said. Your apartments were actually about the same distance. He certainly wasn’t just trying to see you wear his baggy sweatpants and sweaters. That would be very inappropriate.

You complained during the whole walk to his apartment. Your fingers were going numb with the cold and you vocalized this many times. You were grateful you had taken off your shoes, at least your feet were still dry. Peter dug his keys out of his pocket while you shivered on his front steps. The door swung open with a creak and he let you rush inside first, eager to warm up.

“You know where everything is. Feel free to steal a shirt and some sweatpants (Y/N). May should be home soon so I’m gonna run down the street to get my debt sandwich,” he said. He set down all the really expensive equipment before rushing out the door. You didn’t say anything in return, instead choosing to head towards his room to rifle through his things.

You changed quickly, into a pair of his dark gray sweatpants and a black sweater. Peter wasn’t much bigger than you so everything fit fine and it was all really soft. You threw your wet clothes in the dryer and went back to his room. Your bra and underwear were still wet, but you weren’t going to take those off, not in your best friend's house and especially not while you were wearing his clothes. You’d suffer through the chafing.

You were attempting to wash your hair in the bathroom sink when you heard the door open. Assuming it was May you dried off and stalked out to the living room.

It wasn’t May. Peter was back, with a grocery bag of snacks. He whirled around when he heard your footsteps, pausing when he saw you. He stared, opening and closing his mouth a few times searching for something to say. Was it weird to tell you that you looked nice is his oversized clothes? He decided it was. He had no idea why he said it anyway. You shuffled under his gaze a little and said a super awkward thank you. He coughed and handed you your food. Peter flopped down on the couch, trying to pretend that whatever just happened, hadn’t.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” you asked, breaking the thick silence. You took a bite and sat down across from him, pulling your knees up to your chest. He almost, almost said some more creepy shit about you being cute. Luckily he didn’t. If he had, he might have thrown himself out of the window.

You both decided on Space Jam. While Michael Jordan and Bugs Bunny were doing their thing, you and Peter silently ate. He had so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out how to actually say any of them. He was too nervous, too shy, too… whatever he was. He didn’t want to screw up a good thing because of some dumb crush. You had just swum around in a dirty pond for him! He couldn’t say that about anybody else.

Despite his misgivings, he found himself shifting closer to you. His self-control tonight was seriously lacking. You also moved just a little closer. Over the course of an hour, the two of you had scooted so close you were touching. Your skin burned where it brushed up against him. Your heart was beating so hard you wondered if he could hear it. You stole glances at him every few seconds out of the corner of your eye. His hair had gotten messier with him repeatedly running his hands through it.

Suddenly he turned to you catching your gaze. Your eyes widened. He had long eyelashes that framed his deep brown eyes. His pupils were blown wide.

“Uh. H-hey,” you said. Your face burned from being caught staring.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out his hand and pushing a strand of your hair back. His fingers brushed against your cheek. He didn’t pull his hand back. You desperately wanted him to kiss you. He was right there. Technically there was nothing stopping him. You covered his hand on your cheek with your own, and kissed the open palm of his hand, testing the waters. It was all the confirmation he needed.

He leaned in and pressed his lips lightly on your own. You leaned further into him setting your free hand on his shoulder. His mouth was soft and slow against yours like he was afraid to go any further in case this was a really nice dream. When he finally pulled away, he seemed out of breath. You felt the same way. It wasn’t either of your first kisses, but it was definitely the best.

“Cool,” you said, hand moving to the back of his neck. Cool? You cringed at yourself. Peter broke into a wide grin.

“Super cool,” he said.


End file.
